Dealing with a nasty case of writer's block

Wednesday

Nov 26, 2003 at 12:01 AM

I don't know if you knew this about me, but I tend to procrastinate. No, I mean that I really, really procrastinate. My former teachers knew this about me. My wife knows it about me, too. And so does my poor editor; I have missed every deadline I have had so far, and he has been patient.

Well, this time I had to have it in a week early. I HAD to. And my editor is making sure it's going to be submitted on time. I didn't know he knew where I lived! When he got here, I noticed his eyes looked kind of wild. And he has told me that if I don't finish on time, he is going to kill me. If you are reading this, you will know that for the first time I may have made my deadline. Oh, now I see why they call it a deadline!

And it is even harder than usual to write when someone is sitting next to you, especially when he is your editor (who is someone in a position to criticize you), and when that person keeps distracting you by reminding you that he probably is going to kill you because you are going so slowly. And when that person keeps waving that gun around. No, I'm not complaining. I really like challenges.

And my wife is mad at me too, because I didn't tell her we were going to have company, and the house was messy. And more than being shot, I am afraid of the frying pan. The handle fits so naturally in her hand, and I have several "dents" in my head already.

So what should I write about? Because, as usual, I am drawing a blank. I always hope the new column I am writing will be a good one, like a good "Seinfeld" episode, one that is "spongeworthy." But I feel like the last six or so have been like the LAST "Seinfeld," the one where everyone finally got punished, including the audience. I'm really sorry about that, too. What's that? Oh, that is too kind, especially coming from my editor. He says they were OK, and I should stop beating myself up over it. And he is really going to kill me if I don't stop stalling and start writing.

Have you ever had writer's block? (I'm talking to you again.) I don't think it's necessarily a genetic thing, something you're born with. I think it might be a condition that can strike anyone at any time. I knew a guy who would get it when it was time to pay his bills. He suddenly couldn't think of anything to write even though it just needed to be numbers with dollar signs and his name. Oh yes, it COULD happen! Yes it was a real guy! I'm not making that up! The guy's name? Oh, it will come to me any second. Just wait a second. You know, maybe people can't remember other people's names when you keep telling them you don't believe them and keep showing them your gun.

I've been asking my kids what I should write about this time. "Write about us!" says my older daughter, Corey. She is almost 8 and is my tomboy. She likes boys as friends and is totally grossed out by kissing. She plays soccer, basketball and baseball, and is in second grade. She is good at making up poems and freestyle rap and she knows how to dance hip-hop, which she often does after scoring a goal. She is smart and funny and has just started using a makeshift planner to get more organized. I just found her itinerary for last Saturday, which includes 8:49 -- Wake up time, 10 -- Play outside, 10:15 -- Go in, watch movie, 11 -- Get dressed, sleep a little, and 2 -- Baton Rouge, take pictures on Santa's lap.

Rachel, my almost-5-year-old daughter, is almost the opposite. She is smart and funny, too, but she is totally feminine. She is my ballerina and loves to play with her dolls. Every time a commercial comes on for a new doll, she yells out, "I'm getting that! Santa's bringing that for me!" She doesn't mind watching people kiss on TV and teases Corey by giving a play-by-play of the kiss. And Rachel is unintentionally funny, where Corey is funny on purpose.

Here is a typical Rachel moment: we are finished eating Chinese food and she asks us to read her fortune from her cookie. It says, "You are very articulate and professional." We are chuckling because she is only 4. And she rolls her eyes and says, "Man, I always get a funny one."

But one thing my sweet girls have in common is a fondness for telling their mom about anything that will get me in trouble. For example, they might start talking about an episode of "South Park" (which they are not allowed to watch, and I am not either because it "tends to warp" me more) and I can see my wife glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, and then I try to get a real intense look on my face and open my eyes real wide at them and say, "What are you talking about?" Then I look at my wife and say, "Now that they mention it, that would be a funny episode if they really did that. But we have no way of knowing if they ever did, because we're not allowed to watch it. Right, girls?" I say, looking back at them. And then Rachel loves to say, "You let us watch it, Dad!" She thinks the dents in my head look funny.

Another thing they have in common is that, mercifully, they don't look very much like me. They both look like their pretty mom, Lynda. (That should score me some no-frying-pan points .)

Hey, are you ready for Christmas? I know I'm not. I usually am not officially finished buying Christmas gifts even when the mall closes on Christmas Eve. Then it's on to Target, and then Wal-Mart, and eventually, Circle K, before I finally have everyone covered. So you really should try to get on the top of my list, unless you don't mind a six-pack of Coke.

I was just thinking about how special and miraculous the first Christmas must have been. And one of the big mysteries to me is how the three Magi ever found Jesus and his family. They were supposedly astrologers or had some working for them, and they knew when they saw a certain sign in the sky (the Star of Bethlehem) the messiah had been born. So they followed the star and it led them to Bethlehem.

Well, my eyes are probably not all that good, but I have a lot of trouble determining when a star is directly over this continent, much less directly over a place as specific as a manger in Bethlehem. I don't think a star or any kind of astrological sign would have worked for me to find Jesus. At least I couldn't have figured it out by myself. And that was in the time before The Psychic Friends Network and Miss Cleo. Man, just think if they had been around then and were the ones who figured it out first and told everyone. Or, say, the Enquirer. If that had happened, I bet a lot more people in this country would believe in the true miracle of Christmas.

Steve Shaw can be seen each week on the children's television program "The Dr. Magic Show," at 2 p.m. Saturdays on WLAE-TV. He can be contacted at steve@nolatek.com with questions or comments or advice on becoming a superhero.